Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? She begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
"You've expected me?" Simon asked, his brow furrowing.
"I have," she said with a sly smile, but gave no further answer.
Simon studied her for a moment before speaking. “I spent eight years in the army,” he said. “Led a small group in the skirmishes against orcs. We fought in ambushes, held the line against raiders, and faced enemies that always seemed to have the upper hand, blah blah blah.” He exhaled slowly. “But war never truly ends and I am tired of fighting for unrealistic goals.”
His gaze sharpened. “Now, I walk my own path. A freelancer, taking work as it comes. No banners, no orders—only my own judgment... atleast for now i guess.” He leaned forward slightly. “So tell me, why were you expecting me?”
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